Stay With Me
by Stand In Girl
Summary: "Look, I got a couple days off, so I'm going to my family's lake house. It's about 30 miles out of town. No practice, no pryin' eyes, no Bluebell gossip squad. I think you should come with me." Wade/Zoe
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Stay With Me  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Zoe is on vacation. Turns out Wade is too. A lake house, fishing and strip chess ensue. Oh, the fun!  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>Pairing:<strong> Wade/Zoe  
><strong>Author's note:<strong> I've been reading and writing lots of serious things lately, and for a break I decided to watch _Hart of Dixie_. Of course, once I saw the kind of sparks going on between Zoe and Wade, I had to write a little story for them! This is light, fluffy fun, and I hope we get more HoD fanfictions around here soon. Although, I am comforted by the fact that out of 72 stories, 54 of them are about Wade and Zoe. Cheers!

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><p><em>"All I want is you, will you stay with me?<br>Hold me in your arms and sway me like the sea."  
><em>- Barry Louis Polisar, _All I Want is You_

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><p>Zoe leveled her eyes at the fuse box. It sat there, looking innocent and disheveled, its wires sticking out from its weather-worn frame.<p>

"Alright, Mr. Box," she said. "You have two options. Start working right now, or I'm going to have to use the stick."

The fuse box stared at her stonily, challenging her. She raised the stick, a sturdier one than her last and about the width of her thumb. Still the fuse box did nothing, and Zoe's house stayed dark and empty.

"You asked for it," she said, and poked at the wires. Sparks jumped out at her, and she leapt back to avoid them.

"Don't threaten me!" she said, waving the stick around. "I'm not the one that keeps being unreliable and stupid! You think I don't need power? I'm from the city—I _need_ power!"

She abandoned the box and started beating at its pole with her stick. The stick snapped in half, and she threw it to the ground and stomped on it. Then she stomped on it again, and kicked the pole housing the fuse box.

"Well, I hate to interrupt a good tantrum," said a voice that didn't sound like it hated to interrupt anything.

"Would you fix this thing already?" she said, turning furious eyes to her neighbor. "It must drive you just as crazy as it does me!"

"_You_ drive me crazy, doc," Wade said, and walked up to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with her at the fuse box. It was smoking a little. "Especially when you poke at the wires and get 'em all tangled."

"I just want power," she said, throwing her arms up. "Is that so much to ask? I just want to be able to do my hair, and check my e-mail, and maybe make a cup of coffee! But no, I've got a stupid fuse box and a stupid neighbor who listens to stupid music and plays his stupid guitar with his stupid amp turned up until the stupid fuse box blows!"

She kicked the pole again, harder this time, and pain exploded in her foot. "Ow! _Dammit_!"

"I'd think a highfalutin city doctor like you could get a little more creative with her adjectives," Wade said. He was grinning at her, his 'I'm so country, I'm so charming, love me' grin that made her want to punch something.

"You know, I don't need this," she said, pointing a rigid finger at him. "I have quite enough going on in my life without faulty electrical work. You have no idea how stressful the practice—"

"Correct me if I'm wrong, doc, but isn't this your week off?"

She stopped mid-sentence and stared at him. "How did you know that?"

"I've been sneakin' around after you, listening to your conversations." Her wide eyes got wider. "Aw, Zoe, lighten up. Everybody knows old man Harley used to take off the week after New Year's."

"Yeah, but you know what, Wade?" she said, dragging his name out. "I don't take weeks off. I went through college, and then medical school, and then my residency. I'm used to long hours and little sleep and being busy all the time—and I like it that way! I don't _need_ a vacation."

"Then don't take one," Wade answered. He looked amused at this whole thing, as if her life was a joke he'd tell to his buddies later at the Rammer Jammer. "It is your practice, after all."

"I have no choice," she said, and she slumped then, all the energy draining out of her. "Nobody made appointments for this week and our walk-ins have been slow, and Brick just _insisted_ that I take the week off like Harley did and I—"

Her words ended in a squeal when he bent down, wrapped his arms around her middle and threw her up over his shoulder.

"You lunatic!" Zoe shouted, right next to his ear. "You psychotic, backwoods, electricity-hogging lunatic! Put me down!"

She wiggled, but his grip just tightened around her.

"I'm gonna make this easy on ya, doc," Wade said, and his Alabama accent seemed to get a little thicker. "I'm gonna take you on vacation."

"What? Where are you taking me? This is kidnapping, Wade!"

He opened the passenger-side door to his car and set her down inside. Then he closed it again before she could escape. She tried to open the door, but he held it shut, and no matter how much she pushed, she couldn't get it open again. She rolled down the window.

"What the hell are you doing?" she demanded. "I don't know what it's like in Alabama, but in New York men don't just go around tossing women over their shoulders!"

"You know, you should really put some meat on those bones," he said, reaching through to pinch her slender arm. "You're easy prey for a psychotic, backwoods, electricity-hogging lunatic like me."

"I don't have time for this."

"Looks like you got a lot of time, doc."

"Not for stuff like _this_!"

She turned and glowered through his bug-splattered windshield. Then, quick as a snake, she leapt over to the other side and pushed at the driver's side door. Before she got it open all the way, Wade came around the front of the car and slammed the door shut. She shoved her shoulder against it, but his strength overtook hers and she huffed in defeat.

"This isn't funny anymore."

"Listen, Zoe," Wade said, and his voice was muffled and closed-in by the window between them. "Do you trust me?"

"I'm going with a big, fat 'no,'" she answered.

He paused, straightened back up and opened the door. She stepped out cautiously, expecting some sort of trap.

"Do you trust me?" he asked again, but his tone and delivery were completely different. Serious.

"I mean, I—yeah," she said, faltering a little, unsure of the sudden switch. "I guess so, why?"

"Look, I got a couple days off too, so I'm going to my family's lake house. It's about 30 miles out of town. No practice, no pryin' eyes, no Bluebell gossip squad. I think you should come with me."

It sounded perfect. The idea of escaping town, of leaving behind Brick and the practice and taking all the pressure off her shoulders like an unwanted backpack—it could be just what she needed. But…

"Think of how crazy the Bluebell gossip squad will go when they hear we took off to your family's lake house together," she said.

"I'm not asking you to sleep with me," he said. "I mean, that's more of a standing offer, always on the table. But I ain't going to seduce you or anything. I just think you could use a break. You and the fuse box."

She glanced back at the offending box. "Our relationship has been rocky lately."

"Come on," he said, tapping her on the ass. "Go pack. Nothing fancy though, and leave all those crazy high heels of yours here. Boots and casual clothes only, unless you want to ruin all that expensive designer stuff."

"Hey! No groping, spanking, slapping or any combination thereof," she said, hitting his arm. Then she stared at him, chewing on her bottom lip as she debated with herself. "But okay. I'm in."

* * *

><p>An hour later, they pulled up to what Zoe could only assume was the lake house. It was completely isolated, butting up against a clear but smallish lake that was probably a lot fuller in the past. A dock hung out over the dried beach, indicating where the lake's lapping waters used to reach.<p>

The house itself was small and square, wooden and exactly what Zoe would expect a lake house to look like. She was just surprised by the lack of other houses. Or any signs of civilization at all.

"You were going to come up here by yourself?" Zoe asked skeptically. All that alone time would probably send her into a mental institution—if they had such things in Bluebell, anyway.

"It's a good place to think," Wade answered, parking on a dusty driveway and turning off the car.

"You would need complete isolation to do something that drastic," Zoe said as she stepped out of the car. He made a scoffing sound, but didn't answer as he went to the back and pulled out their bags.

He had been right about what to pack. This was clearly not a place for expensive clothes and pointy heels—not a stitch of pavement to be seen anywhere. Woods crept towards either side of the house, and fallen leaves and untamed brambles mixed into the deep, thick dirt coating the ground. A deck surrounded the house, but it was upswept and nature had started sneaking in to take it over. An old screen door blocked the entrance, and it creaked when Wade opened it.

As city as she was, Zoe found herself appreciating the unassuming house. It wasn't trying to impress anybody, and Zoe felt like she didn't have to impress anybody either.

She followed him in, not bothering to try and take her bag from him. Country men had an absurd obsession with carrying even the lightest luggage for women. She just assumed it was a cultural difference.

The inside was as modest as the outside, but homey in a simple way. The furniture was unadorned and the walls were decorated with idyllic lake scenes and mounted fish. She made a face at the fish, but didn't say anything to Wade about them.

"Drunks must make a nice living in Alabama," she said, without thinking. He turned toward her, dropping her bag in the middle of the living room, and she immediately realized her mistake. "I'm sorry, that was a stupid thing to say. Stressed, bitchy Zoe is still fighting for control."

"Not everybody in my family is a drunk," he said, anger still in his eyes. "This house is on my momma's side."

"I know," she said, waving her hands in front of her like white flags. "Seriously, Wade, I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "Yeah, well, I need to go turn on the power. Long as you don't plug too many girly contraptions in at once, it shouldn't blow. Your room is down the hall."

With that, he swept out the door.

"Way to go, Zoe," she said, shaking her head. Not even here five minutes and she'd already offended him.

She carried her bag the rest of the way down the hall. The first door on the left was the bathroom, but there were two rooms on the right. She chose the first one, and opened the door to find a queen-sized bed and a nice, if rugged, room. Placing her suitcase on the bed, Zoe pulled out a white tank top and jean shorts.

She was just tugging off her dress when Wade's voice echoed down the hallway.

"Hey, Zoe? That's the wrong—"

She realized he was going to walk in a second before he opened the door, but that still didn't give her time to hide herself completely. She was sure he got a glimpse of her Victoria Secrets before she yanked her t-shirt over her head.

"Wade!" she said, quickly tugging on her shorts now. "God, don't you knock?"

He was grinning again, this time the smug, contented grin of a person who unexpectedly received something they'd always wanted. "Hey, it's not like I haven't seen it all before, skinny dipper. Anyway, this isn't your room. Yours is next door."

"But my stuff's already in here."

He stepped closer to her, and she frowned and held up a hand to ward him off. "This is the best mattress in the house, and come tonight, I'm sleeping in that bed. If you wanna be in it, fine, but just so you know—I sleep naked."

"The other room it is," she said, grabbing her stuff. His laugh followed her out the door.

* * *

><p>Here, at the pulse point of the middle of nowhere, Zoe Hart discovered something about herself. She liked the silence. She liked to sit on the porch and take in the absolute quiet, which was only broken by the gentle sway of the water and the stray birds calling in the distance. This place had a lonely sort of beauty, and she hated to imagine it empty of people to enjoy the stillness.<p>

Here, at the pulse point of the middle of nowhere, Zoe finally felt the tension in shoulders start to melt away. She leaned back in her rocking chair and closed her eyes, basking in the absolute tranquility.

"I knew this was what you needed," Wade said, and she opened her eyes to look at him. He was standing in front of the back door, his hands resting on his hips. He was smiling at her. "Well, you really need to get laid. But if you won't take that, then this is the next best thing."

"You know, I almost liked you for a second," she said, sitting up straight. "And then you ruined it."

"Aw, c'mon, doc. You like me."

She eyed the bottles in his hands. "I'll like you better if one of those is for me."

He raised his eyebrows. "Oh, look at the city girl now! Sitting on a back porch drinking beer. I do believe you're becoming country-fied, Zoe Hart."

"Maybe a little," she admitted. He popped off the top of one of the beers and handed the bottle to her. She took a deep swig and found she didn't really mind the taste of generic beer anymore. "So what are we eating?"

"That depends on what we catch."

He reached around and grabbed two fishing poles that were leaning up against the wall. She nearly choked on her beer. "You're kidding, right?"

"Have you ever fished before?"

"No, of course not," she said. "Where would I have fished? The Bethesda fountain?"

"I don't know what that is," he said, but before she could explain, he held a pole out to her. "Look, the principles are simple. And if we don't catch any fish, we don't eat."

She didn't move, just eyed the pole suspiciously. Wade sighed, like she was a child refusing to do her chores. "Look, when in Bluebell, right? You can't live in the country for a year and _not_ fish. It's just plain wrong."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. Fine, but you better be good at this, because I want to eat something."

"Sweetheart, I'm good at a lot of things."

"Oh, gag me," she said.

"No comment," Wade answered.

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><p>Zoe didn't trust the boat at all. It was rusty and rocky, and even the slightest movement caused one side to dip a little lower in the water. She sat very still. Wade, on the other hand, made wide, comfortable gestures and sometimes sloshed the water up to join them.<p>

She made him bait the hook for her. She had no intention of touching a live worm, and she had even fewer plans to skewer the poor little guy. Once hers was baited, he taught her to cast the line. The first time, the hook flung back and caught her hair, sending her into a panicked fit that almost capsized the boat.

"Hey, woman, just stop moving!" Wade commanded. She stilled, and he pulled the hook free. "Now don't let go of the release until you're ready to throw out the line. You're lucky you didn't catch skin."

"Says you," she answered, brushing her hair free of any worm residue. She tried again, and this time the line actually went out into the lake. "There, I did it! Now what?"

"Now, we wait," he said, opening another beer and offering it to her. "So tell me, Zoe Hart, how do you like Bluebell?"

She opened her mouth and then paused. No one had ever asked her that way, so straightforwardly. The answer was much more complicated than the question. "It's… nice. I like it a lot more now than I did when I first came."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, I like that people don't just brush by each other here," she said. "In the city, I never even knew my neighbors. Here my neighbors bring me bundt cakes and pray for my soul."

"So you like our fine community?"

"I guess," Zoe said after a minute. "I think I like it more than it likes me."

"That's not true, doc. Lots of people like you."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Like who? And Lavon doesn't count. He likes anyone who knows his football career."

He stayed silent, tugging a little on his own line. The lake was calm and quiet; not a hint of fish anywhere.

"I like you," he said finally, and looked back at her.

She was about to make a wisecrack retort, something about him trying to get into her shorts. Then she saw the way he was looking at her. "Oh," she said faintly, staring down at her reel. "Well, thanks. That's one, I guess."

"See, this town, it's kinda like the Mafia," Wade said. "They don't like outsiders. Once you've been here awhile and they accept you, you won't have trouble anymore."

"Do you know anything about the Mafia?"

"Excuse me," he said. "I watched every single Godfather movie. Plus the Goodfellas."

"The Goodfellas was the Mob," Zoe said.

"Aren't they the same?"

Zoe opened her mouth to answer and then pulled up short. Truthfully, she didn't know much about the Mob or the Mafia. She was a doctor, for God's sake, not an organized crime specialist. Luckily, she was saved from answering by a tug on her line. At first she was sure she had only caught some floating plant life, but then the line tugged again, more insistently than before.

"Oh!" She said, almost dropping the pole in excitement. "I think I got something!"

"What are you waiting for?" Wade said. "Reel it in!"

She did as he said, listening to his somewhat muddled instructions. She tugged here and wound there, until finally a tiny fish popped up out of the water. Wade took one look at it and burst out laughing. Ignoring him, she pulled her little fish into the boat.

"Hey, at least I caught something," she said.

The fish landed in the boat—and flopped around wildly. She didn't expect it to be so jumpy, and the second it landed on her, she panicked. Shrieking, she tried to throw the slimy thing off of her, but it only swung forward on the line and came right back again. Losing her head now, she waved her arms and jerked back—and sent the whole boat rocking on its side.

The boat didn't sink, but it did dump Zoe, Wade and their beers into the dark lake water. Spluttering and coughing, Zoe hit the sandy bottom and kicked back up to the surface.

"_Why_ are you so crazy?" Wade demanded. He was treading water a few feet from her, his clothes soaked through. "Don't you know how to deal with a damn fish?"

"Why would I know how to deal with a fish when _I've never been fishing_? You should have dealt with the fish!"

"City people! You know, if there was a nuclear holocaust, country folks would be the only ones capable of surviving!"

"Okay, Johnny Cash," she said.

"Bite your tongue. That was Hank Williams Jr."

"Whatever. Can we just get back in the boat, please?"

"We can't get back in the boat. We'll _sink_ the damn boat."

She was about to answer when something slimy brushed up against her leg. She squealed and pushed forward into Wade.

"Something touched me!" She shrilled, looking around at the cloudy water.

"Darlin', I'll touch you," he said, arms circling her waist lightly.

"No, you jerk, something in the water! Oh, God, it's a snake. Or an alligator! Oh, shit, it's an alligator! It's going to eat us alive!"

She latched onto him with shaking fingers. Their legs tangled, and her erratic breath made ripples on the water between them. She was terrified.

"One," he said, his voice low. "It was probably a fish. Two, alligators won't go after you if you aren't flailing around like a maniac. Three—I'm going to have to kiss you now."

"What—"

He followed through, cupping her face and pulling her toward him before she could protest. The feel of his lips on hers was familiar, and to her surprise, welcome. She tilted her chin up, not exactly a firm response but enough to encourage him on. He bobbed in the water and without thinking, she pulled her legs up and wrapped them around his hips. He broke away from her.

"Doc," he murmured.

She leaned towards him, almost went back in—and then she stopped. They stared at each other for a second, two heads floating in the water, and then she pushed away.

"You said you wouldn't try to seduce me," she accused. "We've only been here four hours and you've already kissed me!"

"Well, it wasn't a _plan_ or anything," he said, but she saw the grin lurking behind his forced serious expression. "It just sorta happened."

"I did not come out here to—to live in sin with you!" she said, poking him hard in the chest with a stiff index finger.

"'Live in sin'? Really?"

"The point is, this is a vacation, and I will _not_ constantly ward off unwanted sexual advances."

"You weren't doing much warding, doc."

She opened her mouth but couldn't think of a good retort. With a furious sound, she turned and started swimming for the shore.

"Wait a minute!" Wade called. "Just wait. Look, help me pull the boat to shallow water, and I'll put you back in it."

She didn't answer, just turned back around and latched onto one side of the boat. He took the other, and they began a slow path back to the shore. After about five minutes, Wade could stand comfortably.

"Come here," he said. She glared at him, still treading water. "Oh, just get over here."

She went. He placed an arm at her shoulders and another under the crook of her knee, and for a not altogether uncomfortable second, she was encased in his arms. Then he lifted her up, up—and into the boat. She shivered in the clammy weather; the sun was setting, and the temperature had dropped enough to make her feel chilled.

The fish was still flopping around in the boat, though in a halfhearted sort of way. As calmly as she could manage, she grabbed the slimy thing and unhooked it from the fishing line. Then she let the little guy go. Wade watched her but didn't comment.

"You know, even soaking yet, you don't weigh a thing," he said instead, still pulling the boat toward shore. She felt a little guilty about making him do all the work, especially considering she'd been the one to dump them out. "You really oughta eat more, doc."

"Looks like I won't have that option tonight," she muttered.

"Sure you will," he said, and when he looked up at her, it was that 'I'm country, I'm charming, love me' grin. "I've got some cold cuts in the freezer."

Her growl and his laugh echoed out over the water.

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><p><em>Reviews are lovely! Expect the next chapter sometime tomorrow. <em>


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks for all the wonderful feedback! I appreciate it so much.

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><p><em>"If I was a flower growing wild and free,<br>All I'd want is you to be my sweet honey bee."_

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><p>When Zoe woke up the next morning, she couldn't find Wade. Always an early riser, she figured that he was probably still snuggled under his bed sheets on his supposedly fabulous mattress. She put coffee on and padded down the hall on bare feet to his room—but it was empty.<p>

It didn't take much searching to know he wasn't there, because there wasn't anything more to the house than the bedrooms and the combined kitchen and living room. Zoe sat at the counter and drank her coffee slowly. She dug around in the kitchen until she found some bread, which she toasted in a slightly beat-up toaster in the corner. She was munching on the toast and pouring a second cup of coffee when Wade walked in.

"Morning, sunshine," he said. He was bare from the waist up, and wet—though from sweat or lake water, she couldn't tell. A line of fish was thrown over his shoulder, and the smell followed him inside.

"Oh, gross," she said, covering her nose. "Why are those in here?"

"Because I've got to clean them and prepare them before I put them in the freezer," he answered. "You can thank me later."

"Oh, sure," she said. Finishing her toast, she brushed her hands together to clear off the crumbs. "So, what are we doing today?"

He put the fish down and straightened up. "Well, there's the house, the lake, and the woods. Take your pick."

"Right, I forgot. Middle of nowhere," she said, tapping her lips with her finger thoughtfully. "I think I'll sunbathe on the dock. Unless it's infested with snakes or about to collapse or something?"

He laughed and shook his head. "Dock's fine, doc."

"Cool," she said. She poured the rest of her coffee down the sink and walked back to her bedroom. This time, she locked the door before she started to change.

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><p>When she left the dock and walked back inside hours later, Wade took a good look at her and burst out laughing. "You have heard of sun block, haven't you? You'd think, being a doctor and all—"<p>

She held up a hand to stall him. Her skin was red and hot, and she winced as she sat on one of the kitchen stools. "I fell asleep."

"Here, hold on," he said, and walked out the back door and onto the porch. He returned a minute later, holding a bunch of long, spiky plant stems in his hand. Walking up behind her, he lifted her hair.

"Hey!" she said immediately, leaning forward out of his reach. "What are you doing?"

"It's aloe," he said, showing her the plant.

"I know what it is," she answered, but she settled back down. "Just—don't get handsy with me."

He rolled his eyes but nodded, and she turned back around. A second later she felt the cool touch of his hands on her shoulders. He smoothed the aloe down her arms and across her back, pausing every so often to milk the plants. His hands slid low, hitting the curve of her back, and she breathed in sharply.

"Does it hurt?" he asked.

"Stings," she answered, voice a little breathy. "Good call, though, with the aloe. It's what I would have prescribed myself if I came to see myself."

"I don't know what you just said."

He was right; she was babbling. She shut her mouth and let him keep up his ministrations. After a minute, he patted her shoulders.

"All done, doc. Now, wait here and I'll make some lunch."

"Are you always this accommodating to guests at your lake house?" she asked, as he started pulling out various lunchmeats and sandwich fixings. "I'd like to know how many poor women you've taken to this love shack."

"Actually," he said, starting to spread mayonnaise and mustard on the bread. "I haven't brought anyone up here before."

She tilted her head and stared at him, and he met her eyes briefly before looking back down at his hands. He focused on the sandwich-making, and she tried not to let her surprise show through.

"So, you said the house came from your mom's side," she started finally. "Where is she?"

"She died," he answered, his voice closed-off. "About ten years ago now."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Zoe said, even though she hated when people said that. It was so empty, especially for a tragedy that happened so long ago. She tried to imagine a younger version of Wade, taking care of his drunken father while also grieving for his dead mother. It was a sad picture, and probably one he didn't want her to have.

"Well, we learned to get along," he said. He brushed his hands together and plopped the sandwich down in front of her. "What about you, doc? Your momma still upset that you moved to Alabama?"

"My _momma_ and I have issues," she answered, taking a bite. "And my dad—well, he never really cared about me. It's easy to see why now."

"That's no excuse," he said, his voice suddenly hard. "You don't have to be blood to love somebody. If he were a bigger man, he would have sucked it up."

"He's a brilliant surgeon," she said, a little defensively. "He saves people."

"So does Brick," Wade said, and this time he grinned at her, bits of meat and lettuce still stuck to his teeth. "Doesn't mean he's not a prick."

She laughed. "Okay. You've got me there."

They finished eating in comfortable silence. When she was done, Zoe washed off her plate and stacked it on the drying rack. Then she said, "I think me and my sunburned self are going to go take a nap. Any plans for later?"

He reached over and cuffed her on the shoulder. "Anything you like, doc."

* * *

><p>Zoe awoke to the tantalizing smell of grilling fish. She threw on a big, oversized sweater and walked out into the living room, running her hands through her tangled hair as she went.<p>

"Oh, my God," she breathed, and Wade looked up sharply from the stove. "Could that be fish that isn't fried?"

He opened his mouth to answer and then stopped, studying her. She flushed under his gaze and tugged at her shirt. It had seemed long enough before—hitting her thighs and effectively covering her butt—but now he made her feel a little naked.

"What?" she asked defensively.

"Nothin'," he answered, and focused back on his fish. "I like this side of you, is all."

"If you make a 'barefoot and in the kitchen' joke, I'll probably stab you," Zoe said, and the sudden tension ebbed. She lowered herself onto a counter stool.

"Hey, _I'm_ the one who's been in the kitchen," he said, flipping one fish fillet, and then the other. "I don't trust you not to burn the house down."

"I would do no such thing," she said, sniffing delicately. "You want any help?"

"Nope, work's all been done while you were in there sleeping."

And it had been a good, long nap. She had to admit, this was exactly what she needed. Muscles she didn't even realize were tense had started to unwind, and after a few more days here, she'd be ready to go back and take on Bluebell again.

"Thanks," she said, and he looked back at her. "For dinner and for bringing me here, too. I didn't realize how crazy that town was making me. It's like living under a microscope."

"I know," he said. He laid out the fish on two plates and came around to sit next to her. "When your daddy's the town drunk, everybody waits and watches for you to take up the mantle."

"Is that where this attitude came from?" she asked, cutting up her fish and blowing on a bite to cool it. "This 'I'm so carefree, nothing bothers me' routine?"

He twisted off the top of two Bud Lights and thunked one down in front of her. "You might say that. Now I have a different reputation, though. You're sitting next to the town heartbreaker."

She took a sip of beer. "Huh. Well, lucky I'm not from the town."

He raised the beer to his lips and took a long swig. Zoe put a little of the fish in her mouth, testing it. A light, lemony flavor slid over her taste buds, and she quickly cut off another piece. The food was delicious, which was a surprise. One of the many surprises that went along with Wade Kinsella. When she looked up to compliment his cooking skills, he was staring at her intently.

"Zoe—" he started, but she saw a tiny shape skitter across the planked floor, and she interrupted him with a squeal.

"There's a mouse!" she exclaimed, yanking her feet up off the ground. "I swear, I saw it over there just now!"

He looked over his shoulder too, but the fuzzy creature was nowhere in sight. "That's just Bubba. Or…well, it's probably Bubba's next of kin now."

"You have a mouse named Bubba?" she asked incredulously.

"More of a roommate. He don't bother us, so we don't bother him."

She shook her head in disbelief, but lowered her feet back to the ground. Her heart was still beating a little too fast. "Oh, okay. So what were you saying?"

He cut off a long strip of his fish and stuck it all into his mouth. "Just that I hope you like my cookin'."

* * *

><p>After dinner, Wade broke out the liquor.<p>

"Oh, no," she said. "No, no, no. I know the rhyme. Beer before liquor—you'll never be thicker."

"I believe it's 'sicker,' doc," Wade corrected. He pulled out two shot glasses. "C'mon now, where's your sense of adventure?"

"So we're just going to take shots until we pass out?"

"I was going to propose a friendly little game," he said, and uncovered a beaten-up chess set from one of the cabinets against the wall.

She raised a brow at him. "You know how to play chess?"

"What, did you think it was some city thing?"

"Pretty much."

"Well, it ain't. Are you in or not?"

She didn't like the way he was staring at her. There was a challenge in his eyes, one that said he didn't expect her to go through with it.

"Fine," she said. "But I go first."

Three shots for her and five shots for Wade later, and Zoe was feeling good and drunk. Her vision had blurred at the edges, and everything had a nice, glowing haze around it. Wade, by contrast, still looked bright and aware, and she didn't like that she was so far ahead of him on the drunken scale.

"Here," she said, standing up and coming around the table. She sat on the couch next to him and grabbed the bottle of Jim Beam. She poured a shot, and was pleased when none of it spilled over. He wasn't the only one who could bartend. Zoe held the shot out to him. "Get on my level."

"But you didn't take one of my pieces."

She grabbed one of his pawns and dropped it down her sweater. "There. Now go."

A slow grin spread over his face. "How do you know I won't go in there and get it?"

His straight teeth looked even whiter in her drunken state. "Take the shot and I might let you."

His eyebrows rose straight up his forehead, but he grabbed the shot from her. He downed it easily and set the empty glass back on the table.

She got up, went around back to her side and pulled his chess piece out of her shirt. "Here," she said, and set it back in its place.

"Tease."

"Men are so easy," Zoe said. She took his rook with her knight. "And so is chess. Shot for you!"

"Oh, really?" he said, pouring the liquor. "Then how about we make it more interesting?"

"You're going to magically grow strategizing skills?"

"Naw," he said. He threw the shot back, and then took off his shirt. "Strip chess."

He had that look again, the 'I know you won't' expression that really got under her skin. She didn't know when she turned into a 14 year-old boy who couldn't resist a double-dog dare, but there it was.

"Fine," she said, and he had the grace to look surprised. "But you're going to be naked soon if you don't get better at chess."

Unfortunately, he did improve. She didn't know if it was because of her being so drunk, or if he had been playing dumb all along, but his next move captured her rook, and the one after that took a pawn. Luckily, she had gotten chilly and added leggings and socks under her sweater. She took off one sock, and then the other.

"You never said what kind of clothes had to come off," she said in response to his disbelieving look.

"You're a regular wild child, Miss Hart," he said.

"I told you," she said, triumphantly taking one of his knights. "I don't do crazy. _Or_ free passes."

"I'm aware," he said. Then he stood up and stripped off his jeans. She looked determinedly at the game, pretending to be the world's most focused strip chess player. Her eyes betrayed her, and they wandered up to stare at him as he sat down. They played in silence for a few more turns, neither of them losing any clothing.

"And now," he announced, knocking over another one of her pieces. "The moment of truth."

She stood and pulled off the leggings, drawing the fabric slowly down her legs just to give him the show he was looking for. Folding them up carefully, she set them on top of her socks and tried to ignore the way he was staring at her.

Then she saw it. She had a clear way to his queen, and from there, an easy shot to his king. She had virtually won the game, and when she looked up at him, she saw that he realized it too.

"Go on, then," he said, and this time his smile was sexier, more secretive.

"We never talked about what we'd get if we won," she said, pulling the sleeves of her sweater over her hands and bunching the fabric in her fingers.

"What do you want?"

All he had left were his boxers. She fingered her preferred chess piece but didn't answer, chewing on her bottom lip. Then she stood up.

"This is stupid," she said. "And I'm tired."

"C'mon, Zoe," he teased. "Don't quit now! You've got me right where you want me."

"See, that's the thing," she said, hands on hips now, glaring down at him. "I don't want you anywhere. And you promised bringing me up here wasn't just a ploy to get into my pants."

He stood up, somehow managing to look tall and imposing despite his red plaid boxers. "Hey, now hold on a second. This—this was just supposed to be some fun. And _you're_ the one tucking chess pieces into your unmentionables and pouring shots for me and—and you _agreed_ to play, anyway! So don't go accusin' me of doing anything."

"I _told_ you," she said. "I'm not about to become your done-her girl, okay?"

He frowned, clearly thrown off. "My what?"

"You know, the girl who walks by and you turn to your friends and say, 'Oh, I've done her.' That is just _not_ who I am."

"No, you're the girl who goes after an _engaged man_," he retorted, his eyes going cold and hard. "You're right, Zoe Hart. Your moral compass is outstanding, really."

"That—that is _none_ of your business," she hissed, her face heating up.

"No, George Tucker is none of yours. When will you see that he's never gonna leave her? And you keep walking around, making eyes at him and ignoring everyone else—"

"Yeah, because I'm missing out on so many opportunities in this town!" she interrupted, stepping closer. "Who am I overlooking, Wade? Because the last guy I was interested in shacked up with my best friend."

"Dammit, doc!" he breathed. Then he yanked her forward and kissed her.

She meant to push him away. Really, she did. But she was drunk, and he was half naked, and it felt so good that she got all mixed up in it. Pretty soon she was pushing him back, forcing him down onto the couch so she could stretch out on top of him. He kept saying her name, low and soft, like a chant. Or a prayer.

Their state of undress made it too intense too quickly, and when he pulled off her sweater and she felt the cold air hit her skin, it was like a bucket of lake water dumped right over her head.

"Stop," she gasped, bracing her hands on his chest to sit up. He tried to follow her, but she pushed him back down and quickly got off of him. "I can't do this."

He stumbled up after her, but she was already halfway down the hall to her room.

"Zoe!" he said, and caught her arm, but she jerked out of his grip.

She turned to face him, and even though she was angry and upset, part of her still felt like backing him up against the couch and starting all over again. He looked _perfect_, all rumpled and frustrated in nothing but his silly plaid boxers. But he was a flirt, and a tease, and she knew he wouldn't stick with any girl longer than it took to get what he wanted. Wade was a good friend, but he'd never want to be her boyfriend. And if there was one thing Zoe Hart didn't do, it was give her heart to people who were guaranteed to break it.

"No, Wade," she said. Her eyes were dark and serious. "Just— no. Girls like me don't end up with guys like you."

He let her go like she'd slapped him. She hurried off to her room and locked the door behind her.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: This is the last chapter, folks! I enjoyed writing it, and I hope you enjoyed reading it just as much!_

* * *

><p>"<em>If you were the wood, I'd be the fire.<br>If you were the love, I'd be the desire."_

* * *

><p>A sense of dread hung over Zoe's head when she woke up the next morning. It sharpened and intensified as she sat up, and brought with it a hell of a headache. She groaned and got out of bed, blindly stumbling her way to the kitchen. Wade was already there.<p>

"Here," he said. He handed her a glass of water and two Tylenol. She took them gratefully. Then she drank the entire glass of water, and her dry, scratchy throat thanked her.

"Look," she said, figuring she should get it right out in the open. "I know things got a little… weird last night. So I just want to make sure there are no hard feelings or anything."

He stopped moving and looked at her, an incredulous kind of stare that made her feel like some gross virus under a microscope.

"Get packed," he said finally. "We're leaving in an hour."

"Wait—what?" she asked, but he was already walking away from her. She hurried along after him, talking to his back. "I thought we'd stay a few more days."

"You thought wrong," he answered, not even turning around to look at her. "The Rammer Jammer called and asked me to come back early. See, guys like _me_ have to work for a living, Zoe."

She was about to retort when she realized the way his words echoed hers from the night before. The memories were hazy, but she had a pretty good recollection of what they'd said and done after their drunken chess game. She didn't really think he could be upset about that—he was the 'town heartbreaker' and she was the girl who'd never had a one-night stand. Of course they wouldn't end up together.

"Look, I didn't mean to—"

"Don't worry about it," he interrupted. "I just want to get back into town, okay? So go on and pack."

She did as he asked, and an hour later the car was loaded, the lake house was locked, and they were en route back to Bluebell. They didn't talk, and after a few failed attempts at striking up a conversation, Zoe gave up and turned toward the window.

Clearly, Wade was still sore about the whole thing. She supposed it didn't help that she kept hooking up with him only to stop halfway through; that was probably enough to drive any man crazy. She'd give him a few days to cool off, and then she'd make sure they never came close to sleeping together again. It was the only way to keep their friendship intact.

He could probably shrug off sex, but she knew she wasn't the type. There was no way things wouldn't be awkward afterwards, and Zoe really couldn't afford to lose any friends.

He dropped her off at her house with the air of one shedding a massive burden. She sighed and lugged her bag up the front steps, dropping it at her feet in the hall. Wade parked the car and disappeared into his house, and she didn't hear or see him again that night.

* * *

><p>Zoe walked into Lavon's kitchen the next morning, relieved to be back in familiar settings. Lavon was at the stove, cooking what looked to be a heart attack wrapped in egg whites. Her other neighbor wasn't present, but she hadn't really expected him to be. Zoe poured herself a cup of coffee and waited for Lavon to drop the 500 cheese omelet in front of her.<p>

It took him longer than usual, and she finally looked up to see him standing cross-armed in front of her, his elbows resting on the countertop. He was holding the omelet hostage and his look was accusing, and she had a brief understanding of how terrified his opponents must have felt on the field.

"What?" she asked, sitting up straighter in case he tried to tackle her or something.

"What did you do?"

"I didn't—what did I do?" she sputtered, but she could feel her face heating. "Nothing. I did nothing."

"Liar," he said, and kept staring at her with his scary, intimidating face. It was enough to make grown men quake, and it certainly worked on Zoe. "I figured when you two went off together that you'd come back different. Thing is, I expected a lot more canoodling and a lot less pouting. He barely put two words together when he was in here earlier, and he slumped out like a kicked hound dog. So what did you do?"

"Look, he's just annoyed that I won't sleep with him. I'm sure he'll get over it—you know, eventually."

"Okay, for a doctor, you're one of the dumbest people I've ever met," Lavon said, and Zoe's jaw dropped in disbelief. Luckily she wasn't eating, because anything she'd been chewing would have fallen straight out of her mouth.

"Excuse me?"

"Woman, what did you say to him?"

"To Wade?" she asked, though she knew perfectly well that was what he meant. "Nothing. Well, okay, I may have said something about, y'know, a girl like me not ending up with a guy like him, but it's not like he wants me to be his girlfriend or anything. He's just looking for tail, or whatever you people call it in the South."

Lavon walked around the counter and smacked her lightly over the head. It didn't hurt, but it was enough to surprise the hell out of her. "Hey! What was that for?"

"You know damn well what it's for," Lavon said, and he tapped her head again. "If you can't see he has a thing for you, you really are the dumbest person I've ever met."

"Yeah, that thing is called lust," she answered. "But it's not like he can't find other completely willing girls. And if you hit me again, I'm going to kick your ass, pro-football player or not."

"Zoe," Lavon said slowly, like she was a rowdy toddler who kept yelling and throwing her binky around. "Wade likes you."

"Lavon," Zoe said, just as slowly. "He does not."

"Then why did he make your gumbo?"

She stared at him, surprise working its way through her whole body. "He made my gumbo? But I thought you—"

"Didn't I tell you I never use my gumbo pot? He must have stayed up all night cooking that stuff. And he doesn't want to install the new fuse box I bought a month ago because he likes when you storm over to his house to complain. _And_ he wanted to drive you to the airport on Thanksgiving so he could tell you how he feels."

"But—a new fuse box? And the—the airport?" she stammered. "But he wanted to drive me to the airport so he could see his friend the… baggage guy."

Lavon raised his eyebrows.

"There is no baggage guy, is there?" Zoe asked, and now she felt silly for believing it in the first place. Lavon's look said he thought she was too. "But he said all of this to you, Lavon? He said—all that stuff with the fuse box and the airport?"

"Look, Zoe," Lavon said, a little more kindly now, like he decided that she really _was_ just dumb and not being intentionally cruel. "Wade's always been a little crazy, as far back as I can remember. But the guy's got a good heart, as good as anybody around here. And now you've gone and made it sound like you and your fancy shorts are too good for him."

Her lips twisted up. "Do you really think that's what it sounded like?"

"'Girls like me don't end up with guys like you'?" Lavon said, doing a breathy, high-pitched impersonation that Zoe refused to believe sounded anything like her. "Yeah, I think that's the message he got."

She shook her head, her face still scrunched up in dismay. "Why do I suck?"

He patted her shoulder and set her omelet down on a plate in front of her. "See, the good thing about being his neighbor is, you always know where to find him."

* * *

><p>Contrary to Lavon's words, it was not easy to find Wade. He wasn't home, or at the Rammer Jammer, or at any of his usual haunts. He didn't answer his cell phone either, not that she was hugely surprised by that. At about two in the afternoon, she gave up looking and went back home.<p>

The rest of the day, Zoe struggled to do paperwork and catch up with friends and complete a million needless chores, all the while glancing every few minutes at the house that sat empty as a skeleton.

By ten that night, Zoe decided to check back at the Rammer Jammer. She knew Wade liked to work the late shift when he could swing it, and if he wasn't there, then at least she could get herself good and drunk. But luck was finally with her, and she saw a familiar plaid shirt as she walked through the door.

He saw her immediately, but he didn't give any greeting besides a cold nod. He went on scrubbing the counter and serving the two or three customers leaning up against the bar. Finally, when she had been sitting at the bar a good twenty minutes and he couldn't ignore her anymore, Wade finally worked his way over.

"What can I get you?" he asked.

"I was actually thinking I could give you something," she said, relieved that he was talking to her even if his words were as stiff as his nod. "An apology."

He eyed her, looking like he had every intention of refusing. Then he heaved a sigh and leaned his elbows against the bar. "Let's hear it then, doc."

"When I said…what I said," she started, and his whole face closed up. "I didn't mean what I think you thought I meant."

"Can you please speak in sentences I can follow?"

"Look, I just meant, you're the resident Bluebell bachelor, and I'm the girl who's never even—who won't even take advantage of a heat wave. But I didn't mean that me or my shorts were too good for you."

"Your shorts?"

"You know what I mean."

"I'm certain I don't."

She huffed a frustrated breath. "Look, I thought you just wanted in—in my shorts, and that was it. I didn't realize you actually liked me."

He sat up straight and tried to look angry, but she thought she saw a hint of panic behind his eyes. "Who said I liked you?"

"Lavon."

"Yeah, well, Lavon should keep his big mouth shut," Wade said. He started scrubbing the bar again, pressing the rag hard into the old grain. "And he's way off base anyway, because I don't like you."

"But—but the gumbo, and the fuse box, and the airport," she argued.

"Aw, hell. Lavon told you about all that? Knew I couldn't trust that traitor." He shook his head. "Well, it doesn't matter, because I don't like you. Not even a little. In fact, I can list every _reason_ I don't like you…"

And so he did, babbling on and on about her hoity-toity attitude and her complete inadequacy as a mate. Zoe just pulled her knees up onto her barstool, pushed herself up, and kissed him. He caught her face, fingers stretching out over her cheek, and she was quickly realizing this was a nice habit of his.

"What are you doing?" he asked when they broke apart.

"You were freaking out," she said, giving him her own self-satisfied grin. "Figured I'd snap you out of it with my Chardonnay breath."

"Zoe…"

"Will you just say it now?" she asked.

His face was still close to hers, and his eyes still looked a little panicky in the dim light of the bar. "Okay," he said finally, dragging the pad of his thumb across her lips. "I may like you. A lot, actually."

"I may like you too," she said. "It just took me a while to realize it."

"But you should know," he started, and this time he pulled away from her. "This is as good as I get. I work here, and I take care of Lavon's place, and my daddy gets up on rooftops once a month and I have to sing him down."

She nodded slowly. "Okay. Well, I'm a doctor with no bedside manner, who can't get anybody to come see her, and who will forever be known as the girl who ruined the 2011 Founder's Day parade. This is as good as _I _get."

A wicked smile started on his lips. "You're also the girl who ran off with the town bachelor."

"And made a scene at the local bar," she added, staring around at all the people sneaking glances at them. When she looked, they all turned away and started talking amongst themselves again—about the new gossip, no doubt.

"Doc, that wasn't a scene," Wade said. He came around the bar and grabbed her arm, pulling her off the chair and into him. His kiss was long and slow, and her knees went weak by the end of it. He wrapped his arms around her and picked her up just slightly off her feet.

Eventually, he set her back down and pulled away enough to say, "Now, _that's_ a scene."

"I like it," Zoe said faintly.

He kissed her again.

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><p><em>AN: Thanks so much for going along with me! If you could just take a minute to click the button below and leave a review, I would be so grateful. Writers live for feedback, really!_


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